Chapter 1: Bell Rings, Blood Ties
In the heart of Mamelodi, where the walls speak in graffiti and secrets are sold in silence, a school bell rang — not just for class, but for war.
Kgosi Molefe zipped up his schoolbag like it was armour. On paper, he was a top student — science whiz, head of the debate team, even respected by teachers who usually didn't care. But that morning, as he stepped through the gates of Thuto-Lerato Secondary, his books shared space with burner phones and cold cash wrapped in black plastic.
No one knew.
Not even his closest friend, Lethabo — loud, loyal, and forever asking for maths homework — suspected a thing.
"Sharp, soldier," Lethabo greeted, slapping his palm into Kgosi's like a handshake ritual.
"Sharp," Kgosi replied, eyes scanning the schoolyard like a soldier on recon.
Today wasn't a normal day. His father's enemies were watching.
You see, Kgosi wasn't just some overachiever from Block AA. He was the only son of the late Thabang "Bra T-Man" Molefe — a street legend, feared name, and ex-boss of the Red Wire Syndicate. The same syndicate that ruled kasi deals, hijackings, and silent hits. When his father died two years ago in what the newspapers called "a car accident," the streets whispered a different story. Inside betrayal. A setup. A blood debt waiting to be collected.
Now, at just sixteen, Kgosi was the secret heir.
"Wena, you writing the physics test second period?" Lethabo asked, chewing on bubblegum like it owed him money.
"I studied," Kgosi lied. In reality, he'd spent the whole night decrypting codes on his father's old flash drive, the one hidden in the broken speaker behind the wardrobe.
Inside that flash drive? Client lists, transaction logs, and a red-marked name: Nkunzi, the man who once swore loyalty to Bra T-Man — now suspected of setting him up.
As Kgosi walked toward class, his phone vibrated.
Unknown Number: Drop-off confirmed. But we got tails.
He stopped walking for a second.
"Everything good?" Lethabo asked.
"Yeah. Just a family thing."
But nothing about Kgosi's family was ever simple.
Inside the classroom, while learners opened textbooks, Kgosi opened a hidden compartment in his pencil case — a micro-SIM phone, strictly for syndicate use. He had one rule: never let blood spill at school. But out there? In the shadows of Mams?
It was game on.
Because in the world his father left behind, enemies wore school uniforms too — and loyalty?
Loyalty cost blood.